On Purpose
by Paprikakitty
Summary: Yaoi, Slight OOC on Altair's part. Altair gets shot with an arrow, and who is going to help him get it out? Why, none other than Malik! Then when Altair can't sleep, he tries to find some rest in Malik's room, but Malik has other things in mind... Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hello guys! I'm Paprikakitty, and this here is my first fanfic. Now, I don't know if this was good or not so, please, tell me what you think! I don't know about you guys, but I am a freaking huge fan of Assassin's Creed and AltMal, and will most likely write more fanfics about it. **Side note:** I take requests on almost anything, and I love working together with other writers, so if you want something just ask!

**Disclaimer:** I do not in any way own Assassin's Creed, or it's characters. If I did… Well, I'm just gonna say, things would be a whole lot different! (If you catch my drift! XD)

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><p>"Aaah..! Malik!"<p>

"Hold on Altaïr, it's almost over."

"It hurts!"

"Calm down! We're almost done."

Malik was slightly irritated at his friend's whining, but he couldn't blame Altaïr, as he had an arrow lodged deep in his back, the effect of not checking the rooftops for archers. Luckily, they had safely got him back to the bureau, where Malik now had the task of removing said arrow. He grasped the wooden shaft, all the while Altaïr braced himself.

"Ready?"

"Not really, no."

_I'll take that as a yes. _Malik thought, yanking the arrow clean out of the assassin's flesh.

"_Ebn El Sharmoota!" _Altaïr cursed, digging his fingernails into the ground. Malik quickly grabbed a cloth and applied pressure to his back to stem the bleeding. Altaïr turned to shoot Malik his trademark death glare.

"What?" Malik asked innocently, trying to hold back a grin.

"You know exactly what!" Altaïr said.

" I have no idea what you mean."

"You could have at least warned me before ripping that damned arrow out of my back!" Altaïr fumed.

"I forgot."

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did." He leaned down to kiss Altaïr gently on his forehead.

Only Altaïr had purposefully moved his head, causing him and Malik to lock lips.

"Y-you did that on purpose!" Malik stammered, a light pink blush starting to form on his cheeks.

Altaïr grinned. "No I didn't."

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><p><strong>Translations: <strong>Ebn El Sharmoota- Son of a bitch

I don't actually know any Arabic, so I'm so sorry if I offend anyone, I'm just using Google Translate!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** It's me again! I've decided not to make this a one-shot, but a story. I don't know how many chapters I'm going to make, buuuuuuuuuut, I'm going to make at least three, so, here is the newest chapter. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Assassin's Creed, nor do I make any profit from writing this.

_The sound of footsteps were muffled by soft sand as Altaïr Ibn-La Ahad raced across the streets of Jerusalem, quickly followed by a group of several guards. His objective was to lose these men, then safely make it to the bureau, where Malik was waiting for him to return after his almost successful assassination. As Altaïr scaled a wall, he felt excruciating pain shoot through his whole body, he then realized that he forgot to check the rooftops for archers, and an arrow has found it's mark in his back. He cursed himself for making such a careless mistake, hauled himself over the wall, and ran as fast as he could to the bureau, all the while trying to ignore the pain._

Altaïr tossed around on his makeshift bed of pillows, trying to get a bit of sleep, but was difficult as his bandages were pressing into his skin quite painfully. He kept thinking how he could get a lot more sleep in Malik's bed, but pushed those thoughts away, as he didn't want to sleep there just to have said Arabian yelling at him at 2 o'clock in the morning. Eventually Altaïr gave up, walking over to Malik's door. He pushed it gingerly, trying not to make any noise as he peeked in. Seeing only a sleeping form buried in blankets, he became brave and pushed the door open completely. With stealth only an assassin could have, he made his way over to the bed where his friend lay.

Altaïr took a deep breath before whispering, "Malik?"

No response.

Altaïr started to pull back the light blankets that shielded one from the cool desert air.

Malik stirred slightly; Altair dove for cover.

Realizing that he didn't awaken his friend, Altaïr reappeared from behind one of the many bookshelves that Malik kept in his room, and ran his tan hand through his short dark hair in relief. Walking back over to the side of the bed, Altaïr completely pulled back the covers and climbed in with Malik. A minute passed, then two, Altaïr thought himself in the clear. He inched closer to his friend's sleeping body for warmth.

"What in Allah's name are you doing in here, Altaïr!?" Malik hissed. At least Altaïr thought he was sleeping.

Looks like Altaïr got himself in some trouble… I wonder what Malik is gonna do… ;D

Anyways, pervy moment aside, please tell me what you think because your opinions matter to me!


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